


driving times

by connorswhisk



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Multi, i love writing little drabbles about the losers, these gays love each other so much ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 23:09:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20956454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/connorswhisk/pseuds/connorswhisk
Summary: The Losers go on a road trip. Wacky shenanigans ensue, because they always do.





	driving times

The unfortunate part of owning a car, as most people will tell you, is that people are always trying to get you to take them places.

To Mike Hanlon, that’s the best part.

He doesn’t mind driving his friends around, he really doesn’t. He’s the only member of the Losers Club with a car, a vaguely shitty van the color of dirty paper, so it only makes sense that they’d ask him for rides. They’re his friends, and he wants to help them out. Mike knows they’re not using him just for his car or anything, and he _likes _driving, so he doesn’t mind.

Of course, it can get a bit chaotic whenever they go for longer drives. But that really just makes it more fun, Mike thinks.

Bev and Ben have been planning this road trip for months, and now that it’s the summer before senior year, they’re all finally going. It’s nothing special, just a few days of driving around Maine and back, but the Losers Club could use a break from Derry for a while, before school starts back up again.

So in May they all pile into the Mystery Machine (as Mike’s van has been dubbed, though it looks nothing like the real deal. “That doesn’t make sense, we don’t have a dog or anything to be Scooby-Doo.” “It’s Richie. Richie’s our dog.”) and start off.

The thing about having the Losers Club assembled in a small space is that they are all going to be very loud, and any hope of maybe dozing off for a while is futile. It’s also very cramped. Here’s how the seating usually goes, and it’s how they’re sitting today:

Mike is (of course) in the front seat, for three main reasons:

It’s his car

He’s one of the most responsible drivers of the group (unlike certain people who will remain nameless but will instead be left to either smoke their cigarettes or make shitty jokes)

and

Mike’s the only one with consistently good music taste (because Bill might put on some shit like Bon Jovi, and Richie has been known to blast Journey, and Ben is really the only one besides maybe Bev who likes New Kids On the Block), so he’s in charge of the radio.

Stan sits in the passenger seat. That had never been verbally decided by Mike, but Stan had won at rock-paper-scissors against Eddie, so he gets the title of Map-Reader, because Mike doesn’t really know where he’s going. Stan’s pretty good about keeping on top of directions, even though he can be a bit of a back-seat (passenger-seat?) driver sometimes, which Richie likes to tease him about.

Mike doesn’t really mind, though. He likes having Stan up front with him, because then he can carry a conversation with him and also admire his curls from out of the corner of his eye.

Anyway.

The middle seat is for Bev, crammed in between Bill to her left and Ben to her right. There’d been no fighting over who sat here. Once Eddie had lost to Stan at rock-paper-scissors, he’d missed his boat on getting to pick from the middle, because Bev had already taken over, and Eddie’s never been able to hold an argument with Bev.

So Bev’s sandwiched in between Bill and Ben, and she seems to be having fun, looping her arms around their necks and singing along loudly, so, so loudly, to whatever’s on the radio. Bill grins and Ben looks at her with stars in his eyes, and Mike knows they both like her, and he wants Bev to be happy (secretly, he hopes it’s Ben. Sorry, Bill.).

Ben always offers to pay for gas or food for everyone, even though everyone always tells him that it’s fine and he doesn’t have to. He just smiles, shrugs, and ends up doing it anyway. The Common Courtesy of Ben Hanscom is a force to be reckoned with.

Bill usually stays pretty quiet on longer car rides, and this trip is no exception, though he can be persuaded to tell a dumb story if pestered for long enough (which Richie often does). He’s also always the one to bring up some hokey car trip game, which is very dad-like and sometimes groan-worthy.

“Hey, l-let’s play I Sp-Spy,” Bill says. Stan and Eddie groan in perfect sync. Ben laughs.

“What?” Richie asks. “_Hell, _no, Bill, I am not playing fucking _I Spy. I Spy _is for old men, like Stanny.”

“Aw, c-come on,” Bill says. “It could be f-f-fun.”

“You know what?” Stan says. “I’ll play.”

Mike blinks. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Richie pipes up. “_Really,_ Stan?”

Stan shrugs. “Sure. I’ll go first.” He makes a big deal out of looking outside the window, then scanning the inside of the van.

“I Spy with my little eye...something annoying,” he says, crossing his arms.

“What’s that, Staniel?” Richie asks. Stan rolls his eyes.

“You,” he responds. “Now, beep-beep.”

“Ha,” Eddie says. “Fuck you, Richie.”

Richie drapes his body over Eddie’s. “You’re killing me, Spaghetti.”

“Good.”

Richie and Eddie are relegated to The Back. Mike would like to say it’s because they ran out of room, he really would, but the truth of the matter is that The Back is the only place that can contain the combined forces of Richie Tozier and Eddie Kaspbrak.

“It’s unsafe,” Eddie had complained. “There’s not even seatbelts back there.”

“It’s ok, Eddie,” Mike had laughed. “I’m a good driver. I won’t crash the car.”

Eddie had grumbled something under his breath, and Richie had snickered.

“Come on, Eds,” he’d said. “You’ll get to sit with me. I’ll have you _allll _to myself.”

“Yeah,” Eddie had said. “That’s the part I don’t like.” But he’d been grinning as he said it.

So, The Back can get chaotic, but it seems like the perfect outlet for their energy, and it also helps that no one else wants to sit there and Richie and Eddie are kind of there by default. They mostly just stay in their own bubble of kicking each other in the face, and usually the others don’t get bothered unless an argument gets heated, or Richie starts flicking the back of Bill’s head just to be annoying.

“Hey,” Richie pipes up. “We should _definitely _all smoke a blunt.”

The car immediately erupts into various noises of disagreement, except for Bev, who turns around in her seat and cheers.

“Are you serious, Rich?” Eddie asks. “My lungs can’t handle all that smoke.”

“Don’t breathe, then,” Richie responds.

“Please d-don’t smoke,” Bill says.

Ben nods. “I second that.”

Bev groans. “Aw, come on, guys, it’ll be _fuuuun._”

“No, no it won’t,” Stan grumbles.

“Hush, Staniel.”

“Y’all are _not _stinking up the Mystery Machine with that shit,” Mike warns. “Do it behind the next convenience store we stop at.”

Richie and Bev groan in disappointment.

“When _can _we stop, M-M-Mike?” Bill asks. “It’s g-getting close to l-lunch time.”

“Next exit?” Stan proposes. Mike nods.

“Sure.”

“I don’t know about you fuckers, but I came prepared.” Richie produces a large Hefty bag filled with Skittles, Twizzlers, Airheads, the works.

“That is not healthy, Rich,” Eddie says. “How much did that much candy even _cost?_”

“Oh, you know. Had to blow the guy working the counter at 7/11, but it was worth it,” Richie says, winking.

“Aw, no,” Bev laughs. “Not Gabe. He doesn’t deserve your trashmouth, Trashmouth.”

“_Beep-beep, _Richie,” Eddie says. “I’m not letting you eat all that for lunch.”

Mike pulls off at the next exit, parking at a gas station. Bill gets out and walks over to the small patch of dead grass on the side of the road, stretching. Richie and Bev immediately hop out to, presumably, smoke that blunt.

“Who wants in?” Richie asks. No one volunteers.

“Oh, well,” Bev says, shrugging. “Your loss.”

“Hey, Eds,” Richie says. “Buy me a Coke and some chips? I’ll pay you back later.”

“Can’t you get your own fucking food?” Eddie grumbles, but Mike knows he’ll do it anyway. Mike also notices that Eddie hadn’t asked Richie what flavor of chips he wanted, because he already knows it by heart.

Cute.

Mike goes to fill up the tank, humming a tune under his breath while he does. Some snatches of a Van Morrison song, or something like it.

“Hey, Mike,” Ben says. “I can pay.” He gestures to the pump.

Mike smiles. “That’s ok, Ben,” he says. “I got this one.”

“You sure?” Ben asks. Mike nods.

“Ok,” Ben says, and leaves with Bill to explore the convenience store food selection.

“So,” Stan says next, approaching Mike with the map in his hands. “We should reach that corn maze in the next forty-five minutes or so. Then we can drive to the hotel, and finish today with the ghost tour.”

Mike grins. “Sounds great, Stan. Thanks for being my eyes and ears.”

Stan’s mouth twitches, and he rests a hand on the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, well, you know. No one else was going to do it.”

“Even if everyone else _wanted _to do it, I’d still pick you,” Mike says softly.

Stan blushes.

Bill and Eddie come back with food and Bill goes off to drag Richie and Bev out from behind the building. Eddie chucks the bag of salt-and-vinegar chips at Richie’s face and Richie laughs and hugs Eddie from behind, because somehow he’s even _more _touchy-feely when he’s high. Bev just gets relaxed, so she leans on Bill and twirls the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Are we ready to go?” Stan asks.

“Yeah,” Mike replies. “We’re just waiting for Ben.”

Ben walks out of the store with his arms full of milkshakes, because of _course _he’d gotten them all some, the literal human angel that he is.

“Ben, you are a literal human angel,” Mike tells him.

Ben shrugs, smiling. “Aw, you know. I try.”

“_God_, I love you,” Bev mutters and kisses his cheek, causing Ben to turn a bright vermillion color.

Ben passes out the shakes once they’re in the car. “Ok, so. Stan, I got you mint chocolate chip, Mike, peanut butter.”

“Thank you,” Stan says politely.

“Awesome.”

“And Bill and Bev have vanilla and cookies and cream, respectively.”

“Shit, th-thanks, Ben.”

“Thank youuuuu,” Bev slurs. “I love yoouuuu.”

“You’d _better_ have gotten me strawberry, Ben, ‘cause no other flavors exist, actually.”

Ben chuckles. “I got you, Eds. And Rich?”

Richie sits up straight, a pleading look on his face. “Please, please, please, _please _tell me you got me rocky road.”

Ben grins, passing the cup back.

“_God, _Ben, let’s get _married._”

Eddie rolls his eyes.

“C-Can I officiate?” Bill asks.

“_Hell yes,_” Richie responds. “Stan’s my best man, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Stan says.

“Mike’s mine,” Ben says. Mike grins. “And Bev, you can walk me down the aisle.”

“Yay,” Bev says, giggling. “Marriage.”

“Well, what does that make me?” Eddie asks.

Richie grins wolfishly at him. “You, Eds, are my mistress. Try not to make _too _much of a cuckold out of Benny-boy.”

Ben laughs, sticking a straw in his own chocolate shake. Eddie turns pink and scoffs.

“Oh, turn it up!” Bev shouts suddenly. “I love this song!” Stan reaches for the dial, and the sound of “Baba O’Riley” fills the van.

Bev loops her arms around Bill and Ben and rocks back and forth, singing along. And once Bev gets going like that, it’s hard not to join in, so soon everyone is singing at the top of their lungs, no matter how terribly off-key they might be.

Mike sneaks a glance in the rearview mirror to see Bev resting her head on a smiling Ben’s shoulder, Bill grasping her hand in his and shouting the lyrics over-dramatically. In The Back, Richie’s got his arms around Eddie’s shoulders from behind him, and Eddie’s shrieking with laughter as Richie tickles at his sides.

Mike’s heart feels full, watching them.

To his right, Stan is bobbing his head slightly, staring out the window. Mike feels a sudden urge to touch him, just reach across the console and put his hand on Stan’s thigh.

So he does. Stan jumps a little, meets Mike’s eyes, and flushes, tentatively covering Mike’s hand with his own. Mike grins and looks back at the road, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the song.

It’s good. It’s all good.

When they reach the corn maze, everyone hops out of the car laughing, far more giddy than usual, like maybe they _did _smoke in the van, anyway. Bev drags Ben off to the beginning of the maze while Bill goes and buys the tickets.

“Not to sound like Bill,” Richie says, popping his back. “But I Spy with my little eye something cute.”

“If it’s Eddie,” Mike says. “Then Bill owes me five bucks.”

Richie grins cheekily, all teeth. “It’s Eddie.”

Eddie huffs. “Shut up Trashmouth, quit joking around. I’m not cute.”

“Yeah you are, Eds, you’re cute, cute, cute!”

“Fuck _you,_” Eddie whines. “Be serious.”

“I _am_ being serious.”

Eddie looks at him. “You actually think I’m cute? Like, you’re not kidding?”

Richie blinks. “Well, yeah. I say that all the time, Eddie, why are you only asking about it now? And why would I be kidding?”

Eddie stares at him, mouth open slightly.

Mike clears his throat and nudges Stan gently. “We should probably give them a minute,” he says.

Stan rolls his eyes. “Maybe they’ll finally make out and save us all from our misery.”

“Stan,” Mike says, grinning. “Richie and Eddie making out is a whole _new _kind of misery.”

“You’re right.”

Bill comes back with the tickets and they all enter the maze, trying to stay together as a group, though there’s a lot of bickering over which way to go, and they eventually just decide to let Bill lead the way, who only succeeds in getting them more lost.

“Bill,” Bev giggles. “Where are we?”

Bill grins sheepishly. “We’re...we’re somewhere. I’m f-figuring it out.”

“Hey, Mike,” Stan mutters from his right. Mike turns to him.

“Come over here with me?”

“Sure,” Mike says, surprised. Stan grabs his hand and pulls him off behind a wall of corn.

“Won’t we get lost?” Mike says, jokingly.

“I snagged an extra map, so we’ll be fine. Plus, I just saw Richie and Eddie running off over there.”

Mike swallows. Stan is standing right in front of him, looking at him determinedly. “Did you bring me back here for the same reason they left?” he asks, staring at Stan’s lips, which are very, very close and very, very soft-looking.

“_Yes,_” Stan murmurs, before leaning over and kissing Mike.

Stan’s lips _are _soft, ridiculously so, and he tastes like mint chocolate chip milkshake, and a little bit like licorice, and Mike settles his hands on Stan’s hips, and Stan links his arms around Mike’s neck, deepening the kiss, and it’s really nice.

_Really _nice.

When they separate, Mike exhales softly. “Stan...”

“We should do that more often,” Stan whispers, and Mike can feel it against his lips. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while, and if we’re doing it now, I want to do it all the time.”

“Even more than Eddie and Richie?” Mike asks, amused.

“_Especially_ more than them. I have to show up Richie, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

Stan breathes. “We _are _doing this, right?”

Mike brushes a curl back from Stan’s face.

“Of _course._”

And he leans back in.

**Author's Note:**

> needed to write this bit of fluff because my last character study was very sad and the next one is probably going to be depressing as well. this idea has been kind of pinballing around in my head, so here it is. thanks to pix for forcing to me write this lest i die at her hand.


End file.
